down by the banks
by azazels
Summary: down by the banks by cracky wacky, where the shippers jump from bank to banky, where the eeps, ops, soda pops, eff aye shipping week goes ker-splat. for fanfiction imagination shipping week. day five: cinbunzel.
1. squared

**AHAHAHAHA I'M DOING THIS THING. I may or may not be flitting in and out of the AU challenge whoops.**

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fi shipping week day 1: squared  
au: frozen (sing all of jord's lines)

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"Have you seen a Melsmels?" Jord chirped as he ran down the chilly hall. "Come on, who has seen a Melsmels?"

Yew raised a literal bushy eyebrow from outside a frosty window, shaking snow from his branches. "Isn't that _Do You Wanna Build a_ _Snowman_, sonny?" he barked at the passing Jord.

_I swear to god to murder whoever did this to me,_ Jord thought as he continued to sing lyrics he never put into his mouth, this time to the tune of _Love is an Open Door._ "When I'm with Mels (with Mels, with Mels!), love is an open door."

He glared at the laughing servants he passed, running towards the throne room to find Queen Ray.

"Your majesty," he wanted to say as he burst through the coincidentally open—and square—door. Don't ask why. Instead, his words came out as "Let it go, let it go, can't hold the love back anymore. Let it go, let it go, prance away and slam the door."

"What the—"

"I don't care what Mels will say. Let my love carry on! Sex never bothered me anyway."

_Oh shit,_ Jord thought as he came skidding to a halt as he saw the figure in the center of the throne room. Cue car brake screeches and loud sweatdrops. _That's not Queen Ray. That's Princess _Mels.

The Princess Mels took one look at the amount of "ohcrap" written on her lover's face before collapsing into fits of giggles. "Queen Ray sends her love and condolences on the curse she's cast on you."

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**It was written in like less than fifteen minutes; you can't judge me.**


	2. lungs

fi shipping week day 2: lungs  
au: high school

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"Ey, Yew. Como estas?" the loudspeaker in the foreign languages room boomed while frames flashed by on the projector. Zoey sat straight up and goggled at the playing video.

Ugh, attractive Mexican men trying to teach kids how to alphabet—in Spanish, no less. It was as if they wanted to make learning fun, but at the same time, make things so damn hard. How much more difficult would it be to concentrate when there was a sexy man there on the screen to distract you?

"Come on, Zo-zo," chirped the slap-happy teacher, Mrs. Angel. Yeah, she always acted like that. And yeah, the nicknamed annoyed Zoey. "Come on! Sing along!"

"Uno, dos, tres..."

Cue more letters of the Spanish alphabet.

She mouthed the words on the screen without uttering a sound. Kinda hard when you're holding back noises of pleasure at seeing the shirtless son of a smoking-hot gun. Didn't help that his name was Yew, and there were about fifty million puns she could make with that name and double that amount of pick-up lines running through her mind.

"LOL, adios." Yew leafed through the small manila folder he was holding—presumably his scripts. With a wiggle of an eyebrow, the video-alphabet-Abercrombie-model-Finnick-Odair-Edward-Cullen winked at the audience before the screen faded to black.

Zoey found herself feeling oddly disappointed.

"Oh pooh." Angel turned the projector off. "I was going to play the video a second time, but Zo-zo would end up in the nurse's office with suffocating lungs. Poor thing, drooling all over my desks."

Zoey turned a bright shade of red. Even brighter than Umbridge's cardigan.

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**Just so you know, the actual video of Spanish alphabet thing and the alphabet features Yew as a dog. Sorry not sorry.**


	3. rayzel

**This is why you don't let Ray do shipping week. This is why you don't let Ray anywhere near sugar during shipping week. Totally in character though.**

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fi shipping week day 3: rayzel  
au: lord of the rings

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"Is that a _Snowbomb_?" asked Fraydo with staged fascination, fiddling with the said Snowbomb in her hands.

"My Snowbomb." Jorllum hamster!leaped out of convenient nearby rocks to thwack Fraydo upside the head with a hiss. "Mine. My own. My _precious._"

On the other side of the Fourth Wall, a small note should be taken at this point in the entry that Jorllum missed Fraydo by at least two feet. It does add to the lack of logic and accumulating piles of crack and wack and what-the-shit.

Back to the story, Fraydo looked at Hazelwise with an almost-perfect u-u face. Since most of the existing emoticons were strictly to be used only by Joandalf the Gay, the old witch was the only one allowed to make a perfect u-u face. Because, you know, emoticons are spells and they gave Joandalf the Gay sparkly and rainbow powers of homosexuality. The rest of the FI-lowship had to make do with the lack of reaction faces by making almost-perfect u-u faces.

Jorllum poked Fraydo in the stomach with another display of totally staged fascination. "Is it tasty? Is it soft? Is it juicy? Will it _squirm_? We've eaten Goblins and Water Whisheart fruit snacks but we've never had a _Fraydo_ before" His eyes attempted a dilation for cool camera effects. Failed miserably. Those poor eyeballs.

Hazelwise turned to Fraydo. "Do you think they're going to censor anything if I say 'shit' right now?"

Fraydo shrugged and chose the opportunity to display one of the Supernatural reaction gifs she had in her pocket.


	4. jew

fi shipping week day 4: jew  
au: liquor store

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"Oh, Yewhiskey," sighed the bottle of Jorandy. "Oh, Yewhiskey, how I long to taste you on the mouth of my bottle. How I long for the pointy little bumps on my glass surface to brush against your smooth square ones."

"LOL, I'm froody," replied the bottle of Yewhiskey with a little splash of alcohol from inside. Those two were getting a bit heated up there. He would never admit it, but Yewhiskey loved it when someone combusted into poetic bits of poetic poetry and alcoholic alcohol, like Jorandy at the moment.

"A fruity Yewhiskey?" Jorandy wiggled his cap seductively. Ah, there's the pun.

"Quite." Yewhiskey adjusted his _Jack Daniel's _label wiggled his cap back at Jorandy, which caused a number of excited bubbles to rise to the surface of liquid inside the Jorandy bottle. Oh, a sex drive.

"Yo, guys," a new voiced clinked in. Because bottles of alcohol clink. Gosh.

"Who the hell are you?" demanded Jorandy, bubbles fading from inside his bottle. He felt an actual ripple of irritation at the newcomer interrupting him while he was trying to flirt with the beautiful Yewhiskey. It made his insides feel all watery and whishearty.

"Irma wine bottle," clinked the voice again. It was definitely coming from the shelf below.

"A wine bottle?" Yewhiskey questioned. "A wine bottle with bad name puns? Man, what kind of an alcohol are you?" He rolled his eyes. God, the un-froody dudes he had to put up with at this shop. All he wanted to do was talk to Jorandy without any bad-punning newbie interfering.

"The french kind, duh," replied the Irma wine bottle from the shelf underneath, unrippled by Yewhiskey's comment. "Hon, hon, baguette, Eiffel Tower, Les Mis, yo."

"What." Jorandy tried to lean forward and see the Irma wine from above, but his other friend, the giN, stopped him from toppling and crashing into bits of broken glass on the ground below at the last second. "Careful, maN," bubbled the giN. How lovely. Another sex drive. At this rate, the whole liquor store would turn into the brand new chapter of My Immortal.

"Yo," said the Irma wine bottle again. "I bear news from the great Rayquila of the royal shelf of Rayquilas. She has given you her blessing for the marriage with special emoticons of homosexuality from Joandalf the Gay."

"What?" asked the Yewhiskey, the Jorandy, and the giN simultaneously. From all around the store, bottles of liquor echoed the question. "What? What?"

Irma wine tilted her cap sideways. "Ah, forgive me," she continued after a pause. "Irma confused bottle of wine indeed. That was yesterday's shipping week."

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**So not sorry.**


	5. cinbunzel

**This was never supposed to be this long.**

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fi shipping week day 5: cinbunzel  
au: pastry shop

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"YO, YO, YO," screamed a muffin named Muffin. "Rise and _SHINE!"_

"Jesus fudging Christ, woman," the mint chocolate chip ice cream yelped, jerked awake by Muffin's screaming. No one was really sure how or why there was a carton of Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream in the shop with a label reading "HILDA," but they all went along with the flow.

"You rang?" asked another voice. The chocolate fountain bubbled to signal that it was talking.

"Go away, Fudgebey," grumbled Hilda the mint chocolate chip ice cream in an icy manner. "This is so not the time for bad puns."

"It's _always_ time for bad puns."

"Hey, how does Ray talk to another one of the other demon pies?" Muffin piped up, joining in the bad puns fest.

"How?" Fudgebey replied, swirling her molten contents to form a sugary moose.

"_HELL PHONES!"_

"Lol."

Hilda made a noise similar to that of a dying whale before she slammed the lid of her mint chocolate chip ice cream down with a frustrated shout of: "Screw you all, Irma watch another SNK episode."

"How does one exponent talk to another exponent?" Fudgebey and Muffin carried on the bad punning without their minty friend and her cold attitudes.

"How?"

"_MELS PHONES!"_

Et cetera.

Cinnamon Bun observed the chaos with tired eyes. Er, cinnamon chips. Yeah, Cinnamon Bun the cinnamon bun observed the fight with her cinnamon chip eyes. She rolled them, which was pretty hard, considering they were stuck in a baked bun.

Typical morning at the Imagination pastry shop. Yelling bread, bickering yeweast, chocolates trying to eat neighbors [and slash or] some other M-rated crap Cinnamon Bun did _not_ want to get into. To be blunt and short, things weren't pretty. But Cinnamon Bun didn't mind; she was waiting for someone to buy her and take her away. Any day now.

The bell rang, signaling a new customer entering the pastry shop.

_Poor soul,_ Cinnamon Bun thought.

"I bet you she's going to pick me," whispered Hilda, opening the lid of her ice cream back up.

"Bitch, please," Muffin protested.

"Honey pies," Fudgebey interrupted. "Everyone loves chocolate."

"One cinnamon bun please," the newcomer requested to the shocked gasps of every other sweet or food in the shop. No one ever buys a cinnamon bun. No one. Shipper Angel and Shipper Joan squabbled over who would be getting Cinnamon Bun out of her can for a brief second before handing over one pastry over in a wrapped-up bag. The customer took it with a small thanks.

"OH SHIT WAHT A CUTIE PATOOTIE SHE EVEN HAS A CANDY VOICE." Cinnamon Bun didn't know what the Shippers who worked at the pastry shop meant by squealing, but this sure sounded like it. She couldn't even prevent her porous sides from screaming. Not that she was able to before, of course. Cinnamon buns were cinnamon buns, and being a pastry sucked at times.

"Shut up!" Shipper Zoey whispered at the bag. "You two can elope later, god dammit."

"Oh screw that! What's her name?"

"Dot dot dot."

"Come on, Zoey; what's her name?"

"Dot dot dot."

"Please?"

"Dot dot dot."

"Pretty please with a cinnamon chip on top?"

"Her name's Hazel." Zoey finally broke down and gave Cinnamon Bun the customer's name.

"Good."

"Dot dot dot."

"Pixis," Hilda interrupted.

"So not the time for SNK references," Zoey scolded.

"Always the time for SNK references, Zoey."

After a bumpy ride in an 1967 Chevy Impala, Cinnamon Bun emerged to the light. She pushed the urge to sing some Rapunzel down and tried to give Hazel the best eye-sex she could possibly convey with her gooey cinnamon chips. Twisting her eggs inside her baking soda, the pastry tried to decide on what pick-up line to use. There weren't a lot available, considering she was still a pastry.

A gaping hole opened in front of Cinnamon Bun.

_She's going to give me a blowjob,_ Cinnamon Bun thought happily.

"You have to pat my buns, Hazel," the Cinnamon Bun said.


End file.
